


readiness.

by mistermiller



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, M/M, One Shot, SORRY YALL, Small, and sad, i dont really know what else to say, implied past oikage, oikage, this is really short, tobios birthday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 02:24:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13137150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistermiller/pseuds/mistermiller
Summary: he stops pacing, he barely breathes.the clock reads midnight.he’s eighteen years old.





	readiness.

** 9:00:00. **

his clock reads in a flashing white, about the only light he has left in his dark room. the grey walls around it always seem closer in such darkness that shrouds each corner and lurks. his bag softly hits the ground when he lets go of the worn out strap.

practice went by surprisingly fast. he stopped keeping track of time though. instead, he began to wait only for the halting of feet on an all too familiar court. the whistle blown from ukai’s chapped lips ringing in his ears that semblanced their round up for the night. the “get home safe, okay?” from hinata when they both walk in sync to grab their belongings after cleaning up.

his mind is filled with worries and what ifs when he walks underneath of a moon so big.

he bludgeons himself with the things he could’ve fixed during the practice, the things that were waiting for him at home,  
 **( which included, but were not limited to:  
a lonely bed with tousled sheets and no body to welcome him when he went through the door with sluggish feet ).**

an exhausted sigh leaves him, he goes for his bed. when he hits the ruffled, white sheets, his eyes close. but the jucture of his body curled to those sheets, which smell faintly of linen and a familiar mix of citrus and mint— the joints there lose all relaxation they could’ve had.

he shifts. tosses. turns.

settles for lying down on his back, stares at the ceiling with tired eyes.

seemed like he wouldn’t be getting much sleep.

** 10:00:00. **

instead, he finds refuge in his closet.

he never visits the expanse of the space anymore. he only cracks it open to jerk out the same neutral colored t-shirt with the pants to match. other than that, he hates to venture further.

tonight, he breaks that self-written rule of his.

his pale, bandaged fingers trace over shirts that do not belong to him. over gifts that he hadn’t worn yet in fear of ruining their worth. over some picture frames he stuffed in the back, knowing that his frail heart would only squeeze itself dry if he looked at them too often. he hid his middle school uniform back here, hid his past self— his evils, his demons, his skeletons. they must’ve became good friends in the meantime, right?

at least he was doing something a service, right?

that’s what he had to tell himself.

the phone buzzes.

he doesn’t look back. he already knows it’s his mom.

his mom, her apologies about how she had to take up another double. about how she’ll be home in time enough to make him breakfast before she has to go back on EMS duty. about how she’s sorry she can’t be here. that she loves him and wishes the world was different.

he wishes he had the strength to tell her that it was okay. that he was okay.

but tobio was a bad liar.

after all, a good one wouldn’t shove so many things into the back of their closet and expect them not to tumble out when the door reopened.

** 11:00:00. **

he paced the room.

he went downstairs, grabbed a water, didn’t open it, went back upstairs and paced again.

the clock was closing in on him, threatening 59 more minutes until his utter end.

( _just how dramatic did he sound now?_ )

he remembered feeling so young, he remembered wanting to grow up so bad.

he even remembered feeling like he already had grown up.

he scoffed into the empty air of his room. the smile on his face was nothing short of painful.

what a fucking joke.

him? _being grown up already?_

a complete. and utter. **_joke_**.

the light on in his room hurts his sensitive eyes and the lack of noise in his house makes him feel like a ghost. he feels so alone, he feels like a child. a child trapped in his own mind, in a bad dream that he can’t escape from because he doesn’t know how— he hasn’t began to figure out how to, either.

because maybe, somehere along the lines, he didn’t mind not knowing. he didn’t mind letting himself be that child. maybe, just maybe, it could prove good things.

but that was a big fat fucking joke too.

the idea of being eighteen scares him. because then— then he has to man up. he has to face himself and hold himself. he has to do what an adult would, not what a child could get away with. it was hard.

he wasn’t that strong.

( he never was. )

** 12:00:00. **

it’s like ripping off a bandaid when it happens.

except it’s the kind that holds down an IV.

the kind that tears off your arm hair when it’s ripped off. it makes the skin burn, you curse at the pain because the nurse told you it wouldn’t hurt. the nurse said you’d be fine.

it feels like superglue on a thin strip of plastic, if tobio could describe those types of bandages.

he stops pacing, he barely breathes.

the clock reads midnight.

he’s eighteen years old.

eighteen, an adult— a man. there was no way it was real, but he knew it was.

and the phone buzzing again was inevitable. but god, did it make his blood run cold. because he set up a specific buzz for a specific name, the kind that could wake him up from the deepest sleep - his body was attuned to it.

and now all it did was make his body shudder.

** 12:00:01. **

‘ you did it. ‘

( but i didn’t want to. not yet. )

‘ happy birthday. ‘

( don’t. )

‘ i’m proud of you. ‘

( i’m not. )

**Author's Note:**

> small thing i wrote for a friend awhile ago before his birthday   
> i wish i still felt as much as i did   
> reading this makes me really upset   
> thank you   
> i hope this is at least enjoyable


End file.
